Final Kiss
by Verbrevity
Summary: "I suppose a lot of things have changed." "You're the one that chose to leave without saying goodbye."
1. Final Kiss

**Final Kiss**

_When will I see you again?_

_You left with no goodbye not a single word was said_

_No final kiss to seal anything_

_I had no idea of the state we were in_

It was a humid day, the heat sticking to people's skin, causing undignified sweat to make tracks down their skin. Unusually hot for that time of year, most seeking shelter in public places. Of course she was wealthy enough to have a very good air conditioning system. It was why she had stayed home, declining Serena's offer of beach and ice cream and tanning. No one ever looked at her when Serena was in a bikini, understandable but still not desirable.

Unfortunately though she was wealthy enough to afford air conditioning, there was the problem of over use. It chose to break down of course, like a common Brooklyn system, not realising it was being used by the upper crust of society. She had fumed, yelling at Dorota as if the Polish maid had somehow schemed for this to happen. Her mother, typically, had opted to take a day with some new squeeze, reclining in some spa or other while her daughter suffered the indignity of trying to talk to maintenance. Apparently even they didn't work on a Sunday.

Eventually Dorota had escaped to purchase a lesser air conditioner which used common ice. Blair had demanded she return with sorbet and strawberries, the maid agreeing to everything in order to escape the heat of the apartment. Now Blair suffered alone, attempting to cool herself with ice while she sweated like one of the less wealthy masses. She hadn't expected any visitors, stripping down to a loose fitting white shift, not even bothering with a gown for modesty. If anyone wished to come up the doorman would have to ring. Besides everyone knew Blair Waldorf would never accept company which she had no prior arrangement with, it just wasn't _done_.

She sipped covertly at her glass of orange juice, practically no pulp of course, only the best for her. The absence of pulp wasn't very comforting at a time like this however, failing to make the sweet juice any cooler, or prevent the drops of undignified sweat from slipping down her brow and stinging her eyes. She contemplated ringing Dorota again, making sure the maid remembered the sorbet and perhaps demanding some champagne, they'd run out of the brand she liked. The sound of the elevator stopped her finger just as it was about to press the button, the unexpected interruption causing her phone to slip and fall softly onto the plush carpet.

She quickly rose at the rude intrusion, turning in anger and annoyance. Typically Chuck Bass stood in the entrance corridor, staring back at her. Instinctively her hands crossed over her chest, for modesty's sake though it seemed like a rather moot point right then. Chuck didn't raise his eyebrow however, or make some snide comment. He just stood there in his pin striped Versaci suit and looked oddly helpless.

"Chuck, is everything all right?" she fills the empty silence with the soft question, actual concern tinging her voice. He looked odd, slightly ruffled, his usually pristine appearance marred by his untucked shirt and his loose tie. All thoughts of the white party, of his failure to say those three perfect words, left her head. When one of their group was in trouble, everything else took second place. Chuck and Blair took that particular rule very seriously.

He doesn't answer, but at the sound of her voice his knees seem to buckle, and he looks like he is about to fall. Her bare feet make small rustling noises as she rushes forward and grabs him before he can collapse. She quickly takes his weight, he leans on her heavily, threatening to topple her over. They both sway there for a moment, like drunks, she can smell the slight twinge of scotch on his breath, the smell saturated into his suit. He managed to right them, balancing on his own legs once more, his hand coming up to grip her hair tightly. It almost hurt, but she said nothing, just held him while he breathed heavily. In, out, in, out. She starts counting. She gets to fifteen before he lifts his head off her shoulder.

She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, his hazel eyes dark and full of so many things she doesn't even know the words to. And then suddenly his lips are on hers, hungry and burning. She feels heat separate from the warm cloistered air, heat that springs up from inside, filling her not unpleasantly, making every part of her feel alive. She doesn't push away, doesn't think to ask him what is wrong, just allows him to lead her. In his desperation he almost lifts her up as they back their way up the staircase, stealing kisses, leaving a trail of clothes like breadcrumbs.

She comes to herself once they reach her bedroom, ignoring the taste of salt and heat as he desperately pushes her towards the soft sheets.

"Chuck wait," it came out more like a breathy whisper, an indistinct noise. But he paused immediately, his lips just grazing the velvet skin of her neck and she wondered if maybe she should just keep quiet, morals be damned. She couldn't though, she had to know. So she pushed him back, her manicured nails almost digging into his flesh, looked up at him with wide brown eyes and slightly parted red lips. "What's wrong?" it wasn't exactly the question she wanted to ask, but as his skin left hers the comforting heat became almost an ache and the humidity closed in once more, suppressing her, making it hard to breathe.

His hazel eyes catch hers, the sunlight filtering in from the window make them seem almost green. He looks like a drowning man, sweat has plastered his usually coiffed hair. There's a small bruise under his eye she hadn't noticed, she resists the urge to reach out and brush it with her fingertips.

"I love you."

It's the last answer she expected. Perhaps she should have known this would end in disaster considering the question that was asked. But all she heard were those three words, ringing out from his parted lips. No fear, or maybe fear was the reason why. And then his mouth is suddenly on hers again, the searing heat enveloping her once more. She doesn't resist as he guides her gently onto her bed, still in shock.

He had said it, those three words, eight letters.

I love you, was all that she think.

I love you was all that she could feel.

It fills her whole being. Maybe that's why she doesn't notice his urgent desperation, the way he's kissing her like it was for the last time.

_I love you._

* * *

><p>The warm light was dimmer now, the sheets half covering her bare shoulders, soft as only real silk can be. She came to herself slowly, the events dribbling into her conscience sluggishly but surely. Her body felt sore, yet she'd never felt more relaxed, like she could just lay there forever in warm comfort. The heat no longer seemed oppressive. A small smile spread lightly across her face as she recollected, him taking her into his arms, kissing her. Those three words, said with a surety she never thought she would ever hear from Chuck Bass. 'I love you.' She allows her eyes to slip open ever so slowly, wanting to savour the moment for just that minute longer. Turns her head languidly to the side.<p>

Her eyes widen as she sees where he lay was empty, not a trace he had been there. She sat up slowly but surely, dread building as she moves the sheets, as if he was hidden. She turned her legs, her polished toes hitting the carpet before she knows what she is doing. She doesn't bother with a dressing gown, taking the whole sheet wrapped around her she rushes for the door, flinging it open and running down the stairs two at a time. She doesn't think about Eleanor or Dorota, all she thinks about is him. He's not in the foyer though, not sitting at the piano keying a soft tone with dexterous fingers. Not helping himself to some of her father's vintage scotch which he'd left behind. The house was empty save for Blair.

He must have left a note of course, a reason for why he wasn't there. She didn't rush up the stairs with this explanation however, taking them more slowly, as if she already knew. She searched carefully, clinically. First for a written note, something on her custom stationary penned lovingly while she slept and placed somewhere prominent. Nothing however. She even knelt down and glanced under the bed, deigning to put her hand under and search the empty cavity in vain. Eventually she went to the more obvious place, her phone. Picking up the red metal from the bedside draw she flicked it open. A small precise zero was next to the white envelope on the screen. She double checked just in case, but nothing.

Next to the dread some fear began to well up. She knew him, she was sure she knew him better then anyone. He would _never _do this, never to _her_. So that only meant something bad had happened, it must have. She frantically now pressed the number one, the phone automatically dialling those familiar digits. Her heart was in her throat as she waited for it to ring, and ring….and ring…. It went to voicemail, his familiar drawl.

"Chuck Bass here, leave a message and I may get back to you, if I feel like it."

She engaged before it could beep. Pressed the one again…

She tried three more times before she gave up. Pressed the number two on her speed dial instead.

"B. hey, what's up?" Serena's sunny voice sounded through the receiver, not a care in the world for the leggy blonde. Blair could hear the familiar sound of traffic, obviously her friends daily revel had finished and she was making her way home.

"Hey," she tried working to make her voice sound normal, calm and controlled. "Have you heard from Chuck at all today?"

"Chuck?…No, why what's he done this time?" there is eminent patience in her friends voice, along with a teasing quality. She hasn't noticed her friends strained tone yet.

"Nothing…I just…Can you ask Eric…please S. I just…" She choked the words out through a tight throat, almost impossible.

"B wh-?"

"Please S, I really need you to ask," she's begging now, Blair Waldorf never begs.

"Okay, I will," Serena is more subdued now, the phone immediately engaged as she understood the urgency of the situation.

Blair watched the ticking Parisian clock on her bedside table, trying to regulate her breathing with the ticks. Dread kept on building inside of her, filling up every empty moment with white noise.

Her phone trilled suddenly loudly, her fingers shaking slightly as she fumbled to answer the call. Her nail chipped on the cold hard metal but she didn't even care.

"What is it?" she demanded immediately from Serena, her whole body tensed.

"Eric said…" her friend hesitated here, sounding shocked herself, trying to absorb it.

"_What_ Serena?" her voice is shrill, desperate sounding even to her own ears.

"He's gone B…Bart took him to the airport. Eric said they'd had a humungous fight this morning, something about military school…I didn't even know..."

Serena trailed off into obscurity, Blair let the phone slip between her fingers, let it fall onto the carpet. She didn't even bother to pick it up, bile rising in her throat, the bitter disgusting taste filling her mouth. She ran to her familiar cream bathroom, her knees giving out at the porcein toilet. She knelt there and expelled everything from her stomach, until there was nothing left and she was just dry wretching, her salty tears and snot mixing with the foul taste in her mouth. Eventually it was over, her stomach and throat finished spasming, She rested her heated forehad against the side of the cool white bathtub. The tears didn't stop however, the sobs choking her until breathing became a struggle. She wished the memories were as easy to expel as her stomach.

She had seen the many sides of Chuck Bass, known him since they were both kindergartners. He had done many horrible things to her recently. But she had thought that would _always_ remain sacred, to both of them. Those three words, eight letters. They were supposed to _mean _something, they were supposed to _be_ everything, they were meant to _change_ everything.

But he had left without saying goodbye, like nothing had changed. Like it had all meant nothing…


	2. Seasons Change

**Seasons Change**

_I know I have a fickle heart, and a bitterness _

_And a wandering eye and a heaviness in my head_

"Hey," it was a soft welcome, tentative. She stood in the doorway of the room, afraid to step further in. He sat on the single bed, one that hadn't been slept in for six months, his head buried in his hands. At the sound of her voice however he glanced up, bringing his black eye and split lip into sharp relief. Her first instinct was to ask him where he had gotten them, but she kept her peace, biting her tongue as she took in the rest of him. This certainly was a different creature then what she was used to dealing with.

"What are you doing here?" he finally demanded. He was unshaven, not enough for a beard, but enough to look like he had been roughing it for a few days. He had shadows under his eyes, sleepless nights no doubt. And his clothes…well they certainly were a far cry from the designer suits still hanging in his untouched closet.

"Mom…she wanted me to bring up this…." She held up the plate of food invitingly. Eric had volunteered to go, but she had insisted she did. She didn't think the younger boy needed another one of his, 'you're not my brother' speeches. Eric was used to seeing the amiable charming Chuck, but over the years Serena had been exposed to his dark moods and snarky words. It was one of the hazards of being one of three of Chuck's friends.

"Tell her to-" Chuck began heatedly.

"Eat it, don't eat it, I honestly don't care. Just spare me the abuse okay," she said self righteously, placing the plate firmly on the bedside table. She turned as if to leave, pausing only as she heard a low chuckle. Turning with a raised eyebrow she looked at Chuck.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"That's the first honest thing I've heard since I've been back, that's all," he pointed out, reaching over he grabbed the plate and picked up a piece of meat with his finger, shoving it into his mouth.

"Really, I thought Bart had a lot of honest truths to tell you last night?" Serena noted. When Bart had told them he had finally found Chuck after being missing for two weeks, it had been a relief. Serena was actually looking forward to seeing the snarky boy once more. Both Blair and Nate had changed somewhat with his absence, the three of them seemed to be drifting apart. She missed them both. Naively she had thought, with Chuck's homecoming, things could return to how they were. She hadn't counted on how much the other boy had changed. She certainly hadn't counted on the humungous screaming match he and Bart had upon his return to the family suite.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you," he commented wryly. "But Bart's like Lilly, he doesn't see what he doesn't want to see."

"And what doesn't he see exactly?" she queried disbelieving.

"How about you and your family just stay out of this, huh? Don't you think you've caused enough trouble?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low as he surveyed her through narrowed eyes.

"Bart's the one that sent you there," Serena pointed out.

"On who's suggestion?"

"Did you know he wanted to send you straight back to military school once he got you to New York? Mom convinced him not to.," Serena pointed out heatedly.

Chuck paused for a second, surveying her under heavy lids. The slight flush that had spread over her lips faded somewhat, she was never one to stay angry for long.

"Serena van der Woodsen a paragon of virtue, who would have guessed," he finally drawled, fumbling in his jacket pocket he revealed a lighter and a packet of smokes. Expertly flipping it open he took one out between now nicotine stained fingers.

"You'll set off the fire alarms," she pointed out quietly.

He ignored her, merely took the cigarette out and placed it between bitter lips, lighting it up with a small sharp flame. Exhaling the putrid smoke he glanced back at her.

"Guess they're broken."

She didn't reply to this, what was she supposed to say? In the end she turned and left, at a loss for what to do.

* * *

><p>"No, no, no," Nate refuted loudly as he stepped out of the protective gates of St Jude, shaking his head emphatically. "It has to be the midfielder."<p>

"I'm telling you, it's all on the left field," a fellow team mate, John. Protested.

"Keep on dreaming big," Nate grinned, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "But we all know it's down to the midfield."

Before John could refute this a horn beeped, summoning him to the town car. Glancing behind him he grinned with his white teeth, his green eyes crinkling.

"I guess we'll have to finish this later Nat, see you next week."

"Yeah, when I whoop your ass," Nate said, slapping his hand in a rough farewell.

"Whatever," John dismissed, grinning as he quickly ran to the car.

Nate watched his friend go, brushing his sweat soaked hair from his eyes he pulled out his phone from his pocket.

"I see you've missed me most acutely Nathaniel," a voice drawled. Nate turned in surprise, dropping his phone as he met the dark eyes of his best friend. Chuck had been leaning against the wall outside of St Judes , unnoticed. He had a silver flask in hand, and more to Nate's shocks was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket over a button down shirt.

"Chuck…I didn't know you were back man," Nate exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. After getting over his initial shock and picking up his phone he grinned at the sight of his friend, barely noticing the black eye or the other changes the half a year had wrought in him. He went to step forward, but Chuck's tense unwelcoming body language stopped him. His smile faded slightly as the other boy didn't return it with a friendly smirk of his own, merely watched him like he was something foreign.

"_Na_t now is it?" he finally broke the awkward pause, raising his eyebrows sardonically as he took in his best friend. Six months had been good to Nate, he was tanned from the summer sun and had surprisingly grown some more. A heady contrast to his paler more shadowed friend.

"That's just something the guys call me," Nate dismissed, colouring slightly at how stupid it sounded now coming from someone else's lips. "How have you been man?"

"Peachy," Chuck enunciated, taking another sip. "Thought I'd come down here and see the great Nathaniel Archibald, lacrosse captain for myself."

"Is there something wrong?" Nate settled on saying, bristling slightly at Chuck's tone. He was beginning to comprehend that this was not the same friend he used to smoke with and share his problems with. This was something different.

Chuck glanced at him under heavy lids, he opened his mouth as if to say something, and Nate would almost saw something akimbo to hurt in his eyes, but he promptly shut his mouth again after a minute of silence.

"Nothing," he finally said, smirking slightly. "I assume everything is fran frigging tastic with you?"

"Are you coming back?" Nate queried hopefully, ignoring the empty question. Chuck had been a way for a while, things changed, and he guessed that was slightly disconcerting. But he was sure he would get over the mood he was in, he always did.

"Don't have a choice do I? St Judes or military school again, not much of an option," he said this with a resentful tone, turning his gaze from Nate to concentrate on watching the cars pass by on the asphalt.

"So it was full of asses like you thought?" Nate queried, smiling slightly as he recalled his friends lamentations before boarding the plane.

Chuck glanced at him and shrugged indifferently. "Something like that," Nate didn't fail to notice the bitter tinge to his voice.

"I uh…tried calling a few times. They told me you weren't receiving calls," Nate finally muttered awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand and planting his gaze on his sneakers. If he had looked up he would have seen the slight surprise and appreciation flicker across Chuck's face, but he quickly hid it behind a mask of indifference once more.

"What do you want, a medal?" Chuck queried as he instinctively took another long sip.

"Why did you come here?" Nate qustioned, looking up now with frustration.

"Just wanted to see my old friend," Chuck shrugged, relieving the bottle of its last few drops he let it fall negligently onto the pavement. Nate watched him with furrowed brows, confused and concerned. "And now I have."

He turned, as if that was the end of the matter.

"Chuck wait," he said, reaching out to grab the other boys arm and turn him around. Chuck pulled his arm away roughly, his fist coming up as if he was about to hit Nate. The blonde boy quickly backed up, holding up his own hands in surrender, his blue eyes wide with shock. Chuck quickly came to himself, lowering his fist. He didn't uncurl it however.

"I guess I'll see you around Nathaniel," he finally settled on drawling sardonically, interrupting the stunned silence. With that he really did turn and walk away, his steps hurried, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

Nate watched him go, wondering what had happened to his best friend.

* * *

><p>Jenny burst through the side exit, allowing the cool night air to brush her hot face. She had come to the seedy bar in the hopes of finding some excitement, donning a gold sequined dress that she'd sewed slightly higher then was decent, and a leather jacket.<p>

She'd changed recently, a new found confidence with dark dramatic eyes and long hair which allowed her to be someone else, someone exciting and daring and not little Jenny Humphrey that was walked all over.

The problem was she'd been coming here with a few of the outcast boys from school, including Damien a diplomats son, and really it was beginning to become a little boring. All they seemed to be interested in was passing small packets to other guys and doing lines of white powder on any smooth surface available. Thrilling the first few times, but after a few weeks of the same old thing Jenny was beginning to find it weary, more like work then excitement.

If she was honest with herself, the only reason she'd come tonight was because she'd heard that the infamous Chuck Bass was going to be here, and she was curious to see how the months at military school had changed him. Typically she hadn't caught a glimpse of Chuck all night, and Damien had reached the point in the night where he was obnoxiously high, pawing at her like a gorilla.

She sighed, running her hand through her razored hair she lent against the dirty wall, not caring about her jacket. The music pounded out from the bar into the alley, filling it with dull thudding which matched the throbbing in her head. The alley smelt like garbage and vomit, she coughed as it seemed to fill her nostrils.

"Well, well, well little J," a rough voice drawled. Jenny glanced up at the vaguely familiar voice, her eyes widening as she noticed Chuck Bass, standing a bit further in the alley, covered by shadows. Smoke was curling up from the joint clasped loosely between his fingers.

"Chuck," she said, her voice a bit more squeaky and less raspy then she would like. Instinctively she straightened her back, making her small frame erect on the black studded high heels. "You've been gone a long time. Nobody calls me Little J anymore," she corrected, glancing at him up and down with what she hoped was a provocative look. Here was something potentially exciting, after all the last time her and Chuck Bass had clashed it had come out in favour of her. She'd heard rumours on gossip girl, about how he now carried around a knife, about how he had assaulted a fellow student. Tangling him would certainly be something new and exciting, something to boost her reputation.

"I guess I have," he said, raising his eyebrows with some amusement as he took in her outfit and thick eyeliner. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Jenny decided to take the plunge, putting on her most provoking look.

"Huh," Chuck grunted, pausing. She thought perhaps she had caught him by surprise, he appraised her with his dark eyes. "I guess things really have changed while I was away."

"A_ lot _of things have changed," she replied, trying to project confidence though her mouth felt uncomfortably dry.

"You certainly have. You look different," he stated in a uninterested tone. Jenny wasn't sure how to feel about this lacklustre comment, you look different was hardly equivalent to looking good, however he didn't say she looked bad either.

"You look different too…older somehow," she commented, trying to repress the feeling of triumph that he had not moved on, but was deeming to talk to her. Since he'd been back he heard he'd hardly exchanged a word with anyone, putting down any senior who'd tried to approach him with sneers and derision. She tried to maintain her cool façade, casually tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.  
>"It's the joint, it does that," he commented mockingly, blowing the smoke into her face. "Also the year had something to do with it, I suppose." She repressed a cough, blushing slightly at what now sounded like a stupid question. The temporary embarrassment didn't quell her curiosity however, and she couldn't help the next burning question from bursting forth from her as the passing car headlights brought his eye in sharp detail.<p>

"Where did you get the black eye from?"

"Military school isn't all fun and games you know." He drawled, smirking slightly at her wide eyes as he took another cool drag from the joint.

"Did you really run away?" she followed up with, forgetting herself for a moment at the thought of the appealing idea. It was like she was reverting back to Little J again, and Chuck Bass had deemed to pay attention to her for the first time. She didn't notice how her cool façade had dropped however, how her eyes under all that liner were wide and naively blue once more.

"I'm here aren't I?"

"Why?"

He doesn't answer to this, just looks away, blowing the smoke out of his mouth and into the cold night air where it mingled with the New York fog.

"Why?" she prompted, anticipating the triumph of getting the full story, of being able to be the only girl not in the infamous four who knew.

"Look are we going to do this, or what," he suddenly growled annoyed, throwing the roll onto the pavement and stamping it out roughly. He turned to her with an aggressive stance.

"What?" she asked, feeling slightly stunned at the sudden tensing of his shoulders and clenching of his jaw. His dark eyes didn't look so mischievous anymore, just dangerous.

"What do you expect?" he growled, his hand coming up now to clutch at her arm and pull her towards him.

"What are you doing," she shouted, panic rising in her as she quickly shoved him away, breaking from his rough grip.

"Giving you what you want aren't I?" he growled mockingly. "Excitement, rebellion. Isn't that why you came looking for me?"

She felt confusion and uncertainty rise in her, his words reflected what she had been thinking herself, but somehow they meant something different, something she had quite meant.

"I…I…" she stuttered at his raised eyebrows and derisive smirk. She had no words to follow, looking at him with wide blue eyes, at the boy she had thought she was now ready to face and conquer. Instead she found that instead of just being a jerk she despised, he scared her now, like he knew things she thought she had wanted to know, but now didn't even want to think about.

Suddenly he moved abruptly, grabbing her arm he pulled her, she was helpless to resist, fear choking her. Instead of dragging her closer to the alley wall however, to her surprise he pulled her towards the exit and the street, going to the edge he waved down a yellow taxi which stopped neatly by them.

He opened the door then let go of her arm.

"Go home Jenny," he said disdainfully. Without waiting for a reply he turned and walked back towards the mouth of the alley.

"You getting in or what?" the driver demanded, glancing at her as she stood there in her too high heels and too short skirt.

"Yeah," she whispered quietly, tearing her eyes away as the darkness closed around him.

* * *

><p>Blair felt the cool night air caress her as she pecked Carter on the cheek and exited the limo. She laughed as the door closed he immediately slid down the window and bade her farewell by throwing a red rose at her feet.<p>

"Shall I be seeing you again tomorrow princess?" he queried, opening the sun roof and standing half out of the limo.

"Perhaps," she called back coyly. He laughed, holding his heart in mock pain. As the limo started to pull into traffic his ruffled brown hair disappeared once more into the back seat.

Smiling slightly Blair picked up the rose, putting it to her nose and taking in the natural perfume.

It was marred however by the distinct smell of cigarette smoke, wafting from someone on the street. Scrunching up her nose in dissatisfaction she quickly turned to make her way to her golden tower and think of her unexpected Prince. In such a hurry she didn't noticed him leaning against the building close to the door._ He_ had been watching her however, intently, with varying emotion. Seeing her making her escape he quickly threw the cancer stick onto the pavement and extinguished it with a battered sneaker sole, unconsciously brushing his hand through his hair. He moved towards her, his old swagger making a ghostly appearance.

"Blair," he called, thinking of and dismissing a hundred other first words within a second before he was upon her, almost tentatively touching her on the shoulder, but letting his hand drop at the last moment.

She froze at the sound of that familiar husky voice, turning slowly her wide brown eyes took him in, a shocked little gasp leaving her cherry red lips.

"Chuck?" it was a half whisper, more a question then anything else. He smirked bitterly as her brows furrowed, confused by his appearance, She was obviously trying to reconcile this dark scruffy effigy with the once colourfully suited boy she seen last just six months ago.

"In the flesh," he drawled, challenging her to comment on the black jeans, the battered sneakers or the oddly plain button down shirt and jacket. Clothes didn't seem so important anymore, but he couldn't help feeling a slight twinge. Perhaps he should have gotten himself cleaned up and into one of his better suits for her. Then again…

"Carter Baizen?" it was his question now, his first point of call. He'd heard the rumours of course, heard Serena talking to her behind a half closed door while he was pretending to be dead asleep, fatigued with jet lag, as if he could sleep. He hadn't really believed them though, until he'd seen it.

"You've been gone a long time," it was a quiet, defensive sound, like she had been caught betraying something. She clutched the rose more tightly with her white gloves, looking at him defiantly.

"I guess I have," he replied, was that a note of wistfulness she detected? He swallowed back the bitter bile in his throat, tried to concentrate on how beautiful her eyes were. Impulsively he reached up with his bare hand, as if to brush her feather soft hair, his face oddly vulnerable. Blair flinched away instinctively, and his face hardened, his hand quickly dropping to his pocket where he fumbled for another cigarette. "I suppose a lot of things have changed, princess," he pronounced it like a dirty word, placing the cigarette between his lips, his eyes narrowed as he attempted to flick the lighter on.

"You're the one that left Chuck," she pointed out, a flush spreading across her cheeks as she watched his desperate efforts, his shaking hands as he kept on clicking the defective battered silver lighter.

"I didn't have a frigging choice did I?" it was a sudden violent burst, his face twisting almost in pain. He suddenly threw the lighter down onto the pavement in frustration, causing Blair to jump slightly.

There was a beat of silence between them, he was breathing heavily. Her eyes travelled across his face, taking in the unfamiliar new lines, the black eye and split lip. She was not brave enough to ask, she didn't think she wanted to know. Instead working up her courage, she could never quite be afraid of him, she tentatively reached out gloved fingers.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, stepping back violently, almost in fear.

"You're the one that chose to leave without saying goodbye," her voice cracked slightly at this, she tried to compose herself, keeping her lip from shaking. Her eyes fierce, full of accusations and anger.

He couldn't argue with that, so he stayed silent, the unlit cigarette hanging from his lips loosely. She watched him with dark eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Are you happy?" it was a quiet question now, anger and hurt and longing hidden behind a questioning look, an unreadable tone.

She's the one to take a minute to answer, meeting his dark gaze with sad eyes.

"Yes."

"Good," he manages to choke it out through the bitter lump in his throat. Removing the cigarette from between his teeth he threw it on the pavement carelessly. "I'm glad." Indifferently he turned to leave, his hands buried in his pockets and his shoulders hunched as if to weather a storm.

"Chuck," she called after him softly. His step faltered slightly, but he kept on walking, determined. He kept telling himself it was better this way. She didn't follow.

* * *

><p>The cool air nipped at her face. Vanessa pulled the hood over her head, covering her ears in cheap wool. She buried her frozen fingers into her pockets, already regretting her decision not to wear gloves, but loathe to return to the warmth of her building and come out again. Her breathe rose up in the air, a misting curl as if she was smoking. She indulged in the thought for a while as she walked, blowing out a puff softly and slowly, watching the mist curl into indistinct shapes before it disappeared.<p>

She kept a moderate pace, and though her body began to warm the cold air still bit into her cheeks, feeling like daggers piercing her skin. She thought with amusement that if she was_ that_ type of girl, she'd be worrying about her skin. Thankfully Vanessa had more pressing problems in life, like making sure she was on time for her shift. She glanced at the cheap fake gold watch hanging loosely from her thin tanned wrist. She was pushing it close, but she'd been hoping to avoid the crowd that accumulated around the local bottle shop down her street.

A group of boys, acting tough and in Vanessa's judgment probably just posturing. But still one didn't want to test their luck. Especially since her neighbourhood unfortunately failed to be as nice or safe as Dan's, especially for a young woman on her own. She'd tried hauling her sister out of bed, but the shaved punk rocker had merely swore like a sailor at her and told her to stop being such a 'helpless female'. So with this encouraging words Vanessa had braved it alone, taking her time in the shower in the hopes they had bought their hooch by now and moved on. She wasn't disappointed as she looked up, a smile breaking across her face in relief as she noted their absence in front of the peeling painted door of the dilapidated building. She quickened her step now without fear, feeling slight concern at the time.

It was just her luck, wasn't it? As she was a few steps from the bottle shop door a few guys clad in black jackets and faded jeans, with brown paper bags in hand, swaggered out. Vanessa's step faltered at the sight of them, her converse sneakers slipping slightly on the damp pavement at the sudden change in pace. She contemplated turning straight around for a split second, but her moment was gone, too late as one of them glanced up and awkwardly caught her eye. If she turned now it would be too obvious, and she knew jerks like that would just love a chance to jeer at the scared little girl running away. So steeling herself she kept on walking, keeping her eyes firmly planted on the cracked bubblegum filled pavement. Her glittered false nails dug into her palm as she gripped the phone in her jacket pocket. She wasn't really sure what the use of it would be if they decided to start on her, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps the cheap plastic could even be helpful as a weapon, a distracting missile. She brushed these thoughts aside as foolish, they might not even bother with her, as long as she kept her cool.

Again she was unlucky that day. The guy who had caught her eye was watching her with an amused and unpleasant grin. The other fellows, about five all up, had been standing around talking and exchanging stronglys scented cigarettes, cursing about the freezing cold. Two close by payed attention however when their friend spoke up jeeringly. He stepped abruptly in front of Vanessa just as she was about to walk past, desperately trying to be quiet and invisible.

"Hey love, care for a fag?" he asked, his accent marked him distinctly as an uneducated Englishman, a foreignor among the rest. Probably why he felt the need to assert his authority, to show he was as tough if not tougher then his American friends.

"No thanks," it was an automatic response. A quiet murmured reply as she kept her eyes on her converse and her shoulders tensed. She blushed slightly as he guffawed, resisted the urge to back away from his putrid breath. He smelt like cheap beer, a sickly heavy perfume that choked her.

"No thanks," he repeated in a high pitched voice, the two other guys were completely silent, watching with amused interest. Two of the group still hadn't noticed her, dragging on their cigarettes closer to the bottleshop door and exchanging cash for small paper bags. "How bout a kiss then, guess you'd care for that."

He stepped forward now and Vanessa stepped back instinctively, glancing up now to face her harasser. He was ruddy, with a pale complexion and narrow blue eyes. His brown hair stuck up all over, tousled by the wind. His collar was up like some sort of greaser from the old eighties movies Vanessa had watched. She felt the sudden urge to burst up laughing, the inappropriate bubble rising hysterically in her chest as she looked behind her and saw the two others had casually moved to block off her exit, grinning easily as if this was all one big joke. It was like something from the news, young girl attacked on street. It wasn't supposed to be real though, wasn't supposed to happen to _her_. Before she could formulate any sort of plan she heard her name called, filtering through her pounding heart as if from a great distance.

"Vanessa?" it was slightly shocked, a rough voice, as if it had just woken up and noticed the situation. She glanced automatically in the direction it came from, wondering if one of these boys were from her old primary school. The rundown building she used to grudgingly go to, thinking of Dan in his blazer and shiny new school. She hadn't known anyone there though, had never made any friends, and had gotten out as soon as she could, before things turned really ugly.

It took her a second, a few blinks, before she recognised the boy standing there. He was one of the two who had been standing to the side, too occupied with their transaction and smokes to bother with whatever the other three had occupied themselves with. They must have finished the deal however, her had a small brown bag in his hand, staring at Vanessa with wide hazel eyes and furrowed brows.

"Chuck?" it came out a small disbelieving squeak as it took her a second to recognise this ruffled boy as the usually pristine suited fiend. She wondered if perhaps she was hallucinating, maybe she had gotten hypothermia halfway down the street and was now dying slowly without even realising it. The crazy thought flickered across her mind, she didn't have time to contemplate the seriousness however.

"You know this bird then eh Chuck?" Vanessa felt her palm itch, wanting to slap the stupid stereotypical phrases out of the broad mouth. She stilled her hand however, considering that probably wasn't the best option to take, especially seeing as Chuck and her could never be considered friends. There was a slightly drawn out pause, as if it took a second for Chuck to interpret the sound into language.

"Yeah, I guess…" he finally replied, frowning slightly and shrugging, shoving the paper bag carelessly into his brown leather pocket. Vanessa wondered vaguely if it was real or not, the leather that was.

"Well then tell her to give us a kiss eh? She's such a tease," he tried to drawl himself, ineffectively.

Vanessa watched Chuck now with more interest, her eyes widening slightly. Swallowing her pride and paying attention to her building fear she tried to plead with Chuck with her eyes. He glanced at her, and his frown deepened slightly, his hands fumbling to remove a new thin white cigarette and a lighter from his jeans. They all seemed to wait for him, watching as he lit it and took a long drag.

"I don't think so," he finally drawled, stepping forward casually. "She's not that kind of friend."

Relief and surprise flooded Vanessa, she took a step herself, hoping to make her escape while the British stereotype and Chuck seemed to be having an old fashioned stand off.

"Hey, hey where are you going?" he was too fast for her however, his beefy red flushed hand gripping her slight arm before she could take a step.

"Let her go," Chuck's voice was deadly quiet now, so cold it could have made someone shiver.

"What you gonna do about it huh Chuckles?" he asked, smirking he pulled Vanessa closer, his wet lips looming towards her. Vanessa reacted instinctively, trying to remember the few self defence classes she had taken. She dodged his lips while at the same time bringing her knee up. Unfortunately, unlike the movies, her knee failed to meet its intended target, instead tangling with his upper thigh. He grunted slightly, but was not dissuaded, merely tightening his grip. Vanessa felt real panic rise up now, bile rising to her throat as he shoved his lips sloppily over hers, groping at her with large rough hands. Hopefully she would vomit, at least that would provide her with some sort of satisfaction.

Suddenly she was relieved of her meaty burden, he was torn away with one rough pull. Nothing left behind but a vaccum. Vanessa stood there stunned momentarily as she saw Chuck, he'd grabbed the larger Brit from behind by the jacket, using the momentum to throw him to the hard pavement. Then he was on him, his hand which had been buried in his back jeans pocket came out with a silver pocket knife, he flicked open and held to the Brit's throat. Vanessa watched with an open mouth, frozen.

"What the hell," the larger boy fumed, trying to call Chuck's bluff he made as if to get up. Chuck slammed him back on the ground with strength she would never expect from him, pressing the knife deeper until it nicked the skin and caused a little trickle of blood to slide down.

"Hey, hey Chuck," one of the guys said, putting his hands up and looking slightly pale as he watched the boy with wide eyes.

"Shut up," Chuck growled, the other guy did so immediately, deciding not to tangle with the person with the weapon.

"What are you playing at?" the Brit asked, his voice shaking slightly though he tried to keep his rough façade.

"I said shut up," Chuck snapped, pressing the knife deeper and eliciting a small whimper from the larger boy.

There was a drawn out silence, as no one seemed to move a muscle, all eyes trained on Chuck and his knife. Vanessa could see the rising and falling of Chuck's shoulders under the jacket as his breath came out in ragged bursts. She knew she should leave, run now as far and as fast as she could until her converse soles reached the subway and the metal doors slid behind her. She didn't though, she just stood there and watched with the rest of them.

"What do you want," the larger boy finally dared to break the silence, licking his lips nervously as he kept his eyes locked on the small silver knife.

Chuck didn't snap again, just looked at him with dark eyes, his face unreadable.

"I want you to get out of here," his reply was a second later, his voice hard and cold. "Get out of here, and if I ever see you around this area again…" he didn't finish the sentence, just let it hang dangerously. "You understand."

The boy went to nod, then remembering the knife murmured yes between nub lips, his voice cracked.

Chuck didn't comment on his weakness, merely rose cooly, watching as the older boy lay there warily for a second, then got shakily back up to his feet. The little colour that had been in his face had all drained out, stark white against the black jacket. His eyes kept trained on the knife still hanging loosely in Chuck's hand. He backed up a few steps, then determined the other boy wasn't going to set upon him again he turned and headed off without another word. They all watched his hunched back, his hands buried in his pockets, his steps unusually fast, an almost jog. Eventually he turned at the nearest street corner, out of sight.

Silence hung between them all. Vanessa avoided looking at anyone, keeping her eyes on the pavement again. She noticed in her peripheral vision Chuck replacing the small silver deadly object in his back pocket.

"What the hell was that man?" the guy who had first dared to speak looked at Chuck now, the freckles stark on his face. His voice wavered slightly but he looked at Chuck with steady green eyes, demanding.

"He was an ass," Chuck shrugged as if it was of no consequence, not deeming to look at Vanessa he took out a cigarette, his fingers steady as he lit it.

"Yeah…but pulling a knife? What is your problem?"

Chuck sighed in annoyance, clicking his tongue against his palette. He glanced over at the guy with narrowed eyes, the others stood by silently.

"You guys are full of shit," he pronounced, enunciating each word slowly, letting it drop in the air like heavy stones. "That is my problem."

Vanessa watched with wide eyes, automatically glancing at the remaining four thugs. Some of their fists curled, some jaws tightened, but no one made a move. There were three more of them then Chuck, but it appeared the threat of a knife kept the best of them from jumping him. Or maybe it was his unnerving cool façade, the fact he didn't even blink, just dragged at the smoke, allowing it to curl languidly from his mouth.

He snorted slightly, shaking his head, and abruptly without another word he turned and started strolling down the street, not even bothering to glance back. It took Vanessa minute to realise what had happened, but when she did she found her feet were quickly stumbling after him, avoiding looking back at the scorned group of boys. It took her a while to come unstiffened, for her limbs to start moving normally again. By the time she jogged up to meet his long steps with her own, they were half way down the street already.

He didn't glance at her, even though her soles had made distinct thuds against the pavement and her breath came out in short spurts of vapour. She slowed down to a walk, matching him. It was silent for a little while, Vanessa was tense, still expecting to hear pounding shoes behind them, but there was nothing. Eventually she buried her hands in her pockets, treading in silence.

She glanced at him from the side of her eye. She hadn't even known Chuck was in the city, she thought he was in military school or some other equal rich solution for western teenage 'problems.' Then again she wasn't even sure if this was the Chuck Bass she knew, or some other guy who just bared a freaky resemblance to him. For one thing he was wearing jeans, where was the tailored suit, the ridiculous bow ties? He was hunched in a faded brown jacket, his hands buried deeply into the pockets. She noticed a colourful shiner on his eye, it gave him an odd edge, a dangerous look which was unusual on his soft face. She wondered where he had gone and what had happened to him.

"Thanks," she finally murmured quietly, her mouth felt suddenly dry. She tried swallowing it seemed to get stuck in her throat. She kept her eyes plastered on her frayed black shoelaces, flapping against the tongue of her sneaker.

"I didn't do it for you," Chuck said, his voice a snide drawl.

"Regardless, you saved me back there…so thanks," she replied, her voice slightly shorter now, though she attempted to keep it in a civil tone.

He shrugged, his step slowing as they approached a row of red brick apartments.

"This is my stop," he muttered, not deeming to reply. He threw the cigarette he'd been sucking on onto the pavement, negligently not bothering to extinguish it.

"Really," Vanessa looked up at the building sceptically as Chuck's shoe met the first step. She tried to keep out the curiosity out of her tone with a teasing air, "Last I remember Chuck Bass didn't exactly hang out in places like this."

He glanced back at her, a small bitter smirk on his lips. "He didn't carry a knife either, but people change," he murmured, his voice deep. She blinked slowly, trying to formulate some sort of reply to this, but he'd already disappeared through the dark door into the dim darkness of the unfamiliar building.

She was brought from her contemplation of his words by the loud honking of a car horn. Vaguely she glanced down at her watch, cursing as she realised she was supposed to be in work five minutes ago. She hesitated for a second, looking back at the building with a screen writers interest. Then abruptly she turned and started running in earnest flat out, heading for the grey subway.

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><p><strong>AN: I have no idea what this is, but I wrote it ages ago, and here it is. Set in season two kind of in an AU where Chuck was forced to go to military school for some reason yet to be known. I might finish it if people are interested, but it will be a short. Please R&R = ). I have another AU idea in my head for GG world, in a sort of post war setting, anyone interested? 'Someone like you' was the original inspiration for this, but 'don't you remember' fit better, gotta love Adele = ).**

**Chapter title: 'Seasons change but people don't' from: The Take over the breaks over by FOB.**


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